


The Nature of Grace

by Kedreeva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Derek Hale, Angels, Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels, Forehead Touching, Guardian Angels, Human Scott McCall, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Miscommunication, Nephilim, Pining, Protectiveness, Taboo, alternate universe - guardian demons, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: Angel and demon pairs are sent to each mortal to help them make decisions and vie for their alignment, but they must do so without physically interfering with one another or their charge. Derek gets assigned to the mortal Scott McCall, and his new partner is not quite everything he imagined. In fact, he's a little weird...





	The Nature of Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chrysthebadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chrysthebadwolf).



> This was the last of my works for the "Fandom Loves Puerto Rico" fanworks charity auction. It was done for [Chrysthebadwolf](http://chrysthebadwolf.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Thank you for donating to help Puerto Rico recover!
> 
> Original Prompt is located in full at the end of the fic.

 

 

* * *

"How can you call it love when it hurt you so badly? It was love because it was worth it."  
— Jay Asher, _The Future of Us_

* * *

 

 

            “After reviewing the events, we find you guilty of physical interaction without intention to cause metaphysical disruption.” The archangel before him shivered, all its heads tossing in agitation at the decree. “This is a very serious breach of protocol, Derek, but… given the circumstances, we have elected not to remove you from your charge. It is always our duty to act in the best interests of humans, particularly our individual charges, and you have done so admirably if incorrectly.”

            Derek swept his wings down in recognition of the praise and punishment. “I hear,” he said clearly but not loudly.

            “You should not have touched her,” Raguel told him, almost sadly.

            “I could have done nothing else,” Derek replied, resisting the urge to rub his hand over the still-burning scar encircling his wrist like a shackle. It was his own fault, seared into his skin by his own actions, an indelible brand to showcase his transgression.

            Raguel’s primary wings mantled high as he nodded, his lion head opening its jaws to yowl soundlessly. “I hear. We will pinion your wings and bind your form for seven days. We will replace your partner as soon as we have found a demon suitable for your charge. Until then, you may follow your charge but offer no direction.”

            “I hear,” Derek said. “I obey.”

            Raguel’s wings folded, slipping out of phase, and all of his heads save one fell still and silent. A moment later, Derek felt Raguel strip away his power to shift, followed by the deep burn of having his wings clipped. He struggled to remain calm; without Flight, angels could be caught and killed by a powerful enough demon. Coupled with the inability to shift his form from a human likeness, he would spend the next seven days very vulnerable which, he supposed, was the point.

            “Your charge awaits,” Raguel said when he finished and withdrew from Derek’s essence.

            “I go,” Derek gritted out, and he went.

 

* * *

 

            Derek stepped out into the darkness of the mortal plane, wings still aching as he folded them. The tips would grow back soon, but it still hurt in the meantime. Scott looked up when he appeared, jumping to his feet and letting out a breath of relief.

            “Where’s Allison?” Scott asked instantly.

            Derek shook his head the way humans do to say no. “They reassigned her to a different human. She’s not coming back, Scott.”

            “What?” he cried. Derek could feel anger roil off the young human. “But she didn’t even _do_ anything! You were the one that touched her!”

            The scar wrapped wholly around Derek’s wrist burned, still fresh all the way down to his true form. “And if I hadn’t, they would have done worse than reassign her.”

            Although Scott scowled, Derek could tell he knew it was true. They squared off like that a few seconds longer, Derek waiting while Scott clenched his jaw and fought to calm himself down enough to talk about it. Finally the tension leached from Scott’s frame, leaving him looking broken.

            “So I’m never going to see her again?” he asked quietly.

            Derek didn’t have to answer that, so he just took his usual perch on the windowsill. “My condolences,” he said instead. “Until… well, they’re looking for another demon to advise you. I can’t advise you on anything until they arrive, but there aren’t any rules about accompanying you to late night dining if you don’t want to stay here.”

            Scott closed his eyes, then wiped at them with the heel of his hand. Derek made no comment on the tears. “Yeah, okay,” Scott said, voice too tight. “I- I skipped dinner, waiting for you guys to get back. Maybe Blue Moon’s?”

            Derek waited while Scott found a jacket and put on his shoes and sent his mother a message on his phone, to tell her where he was going. Derek couldn’t help but be proud of that; he and Allison had gone back and forth for weeks about the morality of texting one’s parents if they would worry. Scott had decided in Derek’s favor, not wanting to add to his mother’s already considerable load of stressors.

            They walked to the diner in silence, hands in their pockets against the chill of night on the breeze. The Blue Moon Diner was only a couple of blocks from Scott’s house and one of the few places in the area that stayed open 24 hours. This also made it one of the few places in the area teenagers came to hang out after midnight, and the only place they did so without getting into trouble.

            Scott shoved through the door with a little more force than necessary and Derek caught it before it hit the wall. He was not technically supposed to interfere with his mortal’s actions, but he couldn’t shift forms at the moment, so he had to get through the door like a human rather than riding Scott’s shoulder or slipping around his heels.

            As soon as he was through the door, he froze, aether-sense lighting up at the presence of a solo-demon. There were several pairs of angels and demons with their mortals, minding their own business, but at a table directly across from the entrance, sat a demon without a mortal, without an angel partner. Derek watched the guy stiffen, obviously sensing Derek as well.

            The demon turned, amber-brown eyes catching Derek’s, and for a second Derek felt like he might drown in that color.

            Scott turned to look back at him, and followed his line of sight to the demon at the table, and Derek’s stomach sank. If Scott could see him, then it meant the council had found a replacement, and a lot sooner than Derek had ever expected. He had hoped they would give Scott a little more time to recover.

            “Is that…?” Scott asked under his breath, nodding a little toward the booth.

            “I think so,” Derek said, resigned.

            Scott made a noise of irritation, but he headed toward the booth and the demon straightened up even more. He stared with wide eyes as Scott slid into the booth across from him, his grip on his fork tightening when Derek joined him, too.

            “Uh, hey guys,” the demon said, voice a little strained, and Derek could practically _feel_ how new this guy was. He had that particular burnt feeling to Derek’s aether-sense that accompanied fallen angels, ones gone demon against their will. They were always nervous around angels afterward. “You’re uh… awfully alone. Missing a demon?”

            “No kidding,” Derek clipped out, not wanting to give the demon a chance to hurt Scott by bringing up Allison’s absence. He switched to the silver plane to speak where Scott couldn’t hear him. _It is always our duty to act in the best interests of our charges. Scott cared about your predecessor, and he is still hurting from her loss._

 _My predecessor?_ the demon asked, his speech thick and slow and almost clumsy. Derek could feel the ripple of confusion across his true form.

 _You are here to replace Allison and serve as this human’s demon adviser, are you not?_ Derek asked, uneasy at just how new this demon seemed to be. Derek was having a hard enough time coping with everything else on his first assignment, he didn’t need to be training someone as well.

 _I-Oh._ The demon paused, eyes flicking between Derek and Scott, before Derek actually _saw_ him catch up with the conversation. “Yes,” he said, pointing at Scott. “That- that is what I am doing here in this diner. I am going to be your demon guy. I will give you… advice. About… being a demon?”

            Derek made a pained noise, but Scott laughed, and Derek could not help but be glad to hear it. Scott plucked a menu from where they leaned against the wall side of the booth. “You’re supposed to try to convince me to do bad things,” he said, patient and kinder than Derek had expected him to be toward Allison’s replacement.

            “Like order curly fries smothered in cheese?” the demon suggested.

            “Something like that,” Scott agreed, and then reached across the table to grab a fry from the demon’s plate. The demon watched him with obvious envy, and Derek relaxed a little. Envy, at least, he recognized.

            “Are you going to share your name with us?” Derek asked.

            “Stiles,” the demon said, and then winced a little. It was not very angelic name, and Derek figured he must have taken it when he fell. Angels did, sometimes, when they remembered the fall. “And you’re…?”

            “Derek,” Scott supplied. “And I’m Scott.”

            “It’s, uh… good to meet you,” Stiles said slowly. “Sorry about your last… demon.”

            Scott’s posture crumpled a little, but he just shook his head. “It’s not your fault,” he said before grabbing another fry. “And it’s not like there’s anything we can do. She’s not coming back.”

            “Oh,” Stiles said, quieter. He glanced over at Derek and for a split second, Derek got the distinct impression he wanted to ask what happened. But instead, he just turned back to Scott. “So, I’m kind of new to this. Where are we in this whole… thing? They didn’t tell me anything.”

            Derek just barely managed to keep from sighing. First assignment or not, at least Derek had come to it with _some_ idea of what was going on. They must have rushed Stiles’ training due to the unusual circumstances, which was irritating but understandable. “It’s only been a couple months since I arrived,” Derek told him, as patiently as he could. “It’s probably better that way. Scott’s scale is still balanced, maybe even tipped slightly in your favor.”

            Stiles smiled a little and Derek’s chest gave a flutter he did not understand. “That sounds like it’s good for me. Unless we want to keep it balanced...”

            Scott laughed and shot Derek an amused look. Given everything that had happened with Allison, Derek had thought it would be a lot longer before he heard Scott laugh, and here Stiles had already gotten him twice.

            “Dude, you sound like you didn’t get any training at all,” Scott said.

            “Ha, yeah,” Stiles said, brittle, forcing a smile. “But hey, demons do bad things like not pay attention in class, right?”

            “Yeah,” Scott agreed. “I think you’ll be good at this.”

            Stiles’ smile was no less forced the second time. “Let’s hope so.”

            Derek had never thought he could miss a demon, but he was already starting to miss Allison. He did not have a good feeling about Stiles’ complete lack of knowledge or confidence. Allison had studied extensively before being assigned to Scott, and she had still managed to lead them all into severe trouble. Stiles seemed more like the sort that would stumble haphazardly into trouble with no clue how it happened.

            But he was what Derek had to work with, for the moment, so he forced himself to smile back and vowed he would do better this time.

 

* * *

 

            “So we just, like, wait for him to wake up?” Stiles asked, his whisper too loud in the silence.

            Derek opened his eyes to glare, answering on the silver plane so as not to wake Scott. _Yes._

            Stiles looked chagrined. _Sorry_. His voice sounded so much different on the silver plane, rusty and sticky the way human thoughts felt when they crossed over. It reminded Derek of the way humans sounded when they just woke up or spent their lives smoking. _I forgot._

            With another scowl, Derek closed his eyes again. There was no way Stiles just _forgot_. The silver plane was where all metaphysical communication occurred naturally; aether beings had to work harder to be heard in the mortal plane. He had to be doing it just to annoy Derek, and it was working.

 _How long is he supposed to sleep for?_ Stiles asked.

 _It is Saturday_ , Derek told him. Angels and demons didn’t sleep, but Derek understood that humans needed at least a few hours of sleep per cycle to function and Scott had stayed up particularly late last night.

            When Allison had been here, Derek had spent the nights talking to her about various philosophies, history, and even some personal stories. Some nights he had spent just outside on the lawn, his wings spread over the soft grass as he stared up into the stars. The golden plane had no stars, and they were one of his favorite things about the mortal plane. He thought he could watch the moon wax and wane for eternity and never grow tired of it.

            Stiles, however, had spent the night being nosy. He had wandered around the house touching everything he could put his paws on, forcing Derek to follow him around and put everything back just-so. When Derek caught Stiles watching him as he moved something, he put an end to the exploration and made Stiles return to the bedroom to sit quietly.

            Unfortunately, Stiles seemed to be very bad at sitting quietly.

 _That is not an answer! Is that important? Saturday?_ Stiles asked, fidgeting loudly with something he had plucked from one of Scott’s shelves. Derek was too tired to tell him to put it back.

 _It means he does not have school,_ Derek answered.

 _What is school?_ Stiles asked, and Derek began to think maybe he preferred Stiles snooping around the house to interrogating Derek.

 _Human training,_ Derek told him, opening his eyes again. _Humans attend it five out of every seven cycles._

 _Why? What are they training for?_ Stiles asked.

            Before Derek could answer, Scott shifted and threw an arm over his eyes. “What time is it?” he groaned.

            “Almost nine,” Derek answered aloud.

            “Ugh,” Scott said, sounding disgusted. “But at least it’s Saturday. I don’t have to get out of bed.”

            “You do need to get up at some point,” Derek told him patiently. They’d had some form of this conversation every weekend since Derek met him. The kid was not a morning person. “Your mom left you a list of chores.”

            Scott sighed, moving his arm so he could stare up at the ceiling the way he did every time, and Derek waited patiently for him to argue with himself until he could muster the strength of will to get out of bed. He could sense the echo of the internal argument on the silver plane, a grating whisper the way most human thought was. Stiles looked between the two of them, obviously waiting for something to happen, but Derek didn’t feel like explaining something which would shortly become self evident.

            “What’s chores?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence.

            Scott levered up a little to look at him where he perched on the end of the bed. “You don’t know what chores are?” he said. “It’s like… jobs you have to do over and over again. Like put away dishes and mow the lawn and make the bed.”

            Stiles gave him an offended look. “You do them and then you have to do them again? What’s the point?”

            Flopping back down, Scott gave a little, amused scoff. “There is no point.” He threw the covers over his head and his voice was muffled when he spoke again. “There’s no point to anything. No offense, but I just want Allison back.”

            Derek winced. He had known it would be hard for Scott to get over her. The two had fallen in love too hard, and been torn apart too quickly. But there was no way he would ever see her again, and it was Derek’s job to help him move on from all of it.

            However, before Derek could say a word, Stiles climbed down from his perch and onto the bed proper, kneeling next to Scott’s ankles. “It’s okay to miss her,” he said softly. Derek might have called it compassion, were it not coming from a demon. “But you can’t just stop because she’s not here. How are you going to find her again if you give up?”

            Alarmed, Derek stood up from his perch, a protest already on his lips as Scott tossed the covers back to look at Stiles. Scott beat him to the punch. “You think I can find her again?”

            “Absolutely not,” Derek said sharply. “Even if we knew where she was, she’s been assigned to another human, and you can’t see anyone else’s demon.”

            “Yeah, but like… we can,” Stiles told him. “And _you_ were the one that told me it was our job to act in the best interests of our human, remember?”

            “That- that’s not- I didn’t mean-” Derek stuttered, incredulous. Yes, he had said that, but while finding Allison was Scott’s _most_ interest, it didn’t make it his _best_. “We are _not_ going on a hunt to find Allison. You have chores to do, and homework, and an entire life to live.”

            Stiles looked over, openly considering Derek, before he shrugged. “Yeah, okay,” he said, clambering to his feet. “Derek’s right. Humans don’t live that long. If you listen to me long enough, you’ll probably get to see her again afterward.”

            Derek growled, reining in his desire to mantle over the snarky little demon with his true form. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

            The grin Stiles gave him was every bit as infuriating as his terrible suggestions. Maybe he hadn’t been told anything before coming here, but he was absolutely perfect at the job. “But it’s true, isn’t it? If he listens to me and unbalances his scale, that’s what happens. He turns into a demon. And there’s no rules against demons touching demons.”

            At the way Stiles’ eyes flicked down to his arm, Derek covered his wrist with one hand, aware of how perfectly the handprint scar wrapped around it matched up. If Stiles hadn’t been told the whole story, he was apparently more than sharp enough to make correct guesses.

            “That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Derek said, frustrated.

            “But it _would_ work,” Stiles said. He turned back to Scott. “Well? You can’t make many decisions sitting in bed.”

            Derek felt Scott looking at him for confirmation or advice or literally _anything_ , but all Derek could do was stare openly at Stiles. He had just walked them all in a circle, and ended up in the same place, doing exactly what Derek had asked Scott to do with absolutely none of the correct intention. Stiles turned to look back at him as Scott slowly levered out of bed.

            “You’re right,” Scott said quietly, tossing back the covers and swinging his feet onto the floor.

 _It is always our duty to act in the best interests of our charges,_ Stiles said to him across the silver plane, eyes locked on Derek’s. _Is that now what you told me?_

 _I did not mean like this,_ Derek answered.

 _He lost someone,_ Stiles told him. _Is it not our job to help him get through that? Does it matter how?_

            Derek watched as Stiles slowly turned his attention back to Scott, and he realized that no, it probably didn’t. Scott’s scale still felt balanced between action and intention, and Stiles had not done anything technically wrong. Maybe it would be okay after all.

            Scott hesitated once he was dressed, and looked back at the messy sheets. “Should I make the bed?”

            Stiles shrugged. “You’re just going to get back in it,” he said.

            Then again, Derek thought as Scott headed for the door, maybe it wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

            The first day went about as well as Derek expected, which was to say not very well at all. When he had worked with Allison, they both picked their battles when it came to helping Scott make decisions, mostly letting him exercise free unless he asked for help. Stiles also picked his battles, except that he picked all of them and seemed to have no sense of what was actually right and wrong.

            They had bickered for ten minutes about what kind of sandwich was morally better than another, until Derek realized Scott had already made and eaten most of his peanut butter and pickle sandwich. They had argued about how to do chores the entire time Scott was doing them, and he didn’t take advice from either of them. Scott cooked dinner for his mom and Stiles spent the entire time asking Scott what every ingredient was and what it tasted like.

            Derek asked him why it mattered what anything tasted like, since they couldn’t eat mortal food, and Stiles said: “So you’ve never wanted to know about something you couldn’t do?”

            The scar around Derek’s wrist had throbbed in response. There had been a time he hadn’t wondered. There had been a time he had only wanted to do his duty, and do it well. And then Allison had come, and turned the world on its side, and now there was Stiles doing his level best to break things.

            They had somehow made it all the way through the day, and gotten Scott safely back to sleep, and Derek was able to breathe a sigh of relief as he sat against the windowsill in Scott’s bedroom. Stiles had perched on the end of the bed this time, instead of wandering around the house, and he seemed more settled for having spent the day exhausting himself with talk.

 _They are fascinating,_ Stiles said quietly.

            Maybe he had not exhausted himself after all.

 _Do not get too attached,_ Derek warned him. He didn’t need to go through this all over again with Stiles. _Scott_ didn’t need to go through this all over again with Stiles. Losing Allison had been hard enough.

            Stiles glanced over at him, and then nodded down to his wrist. _Is that what happened?_

            Instinctively, Derek covered his wrist. The mark was one of shame, one of guilt, a scar born of one of the few sins angels and demons shared. When an angel touched a demon, or a demon touched an angel, both were left with an aether-deep scar to mark their transgression. A brand to prove their wrong-doing. Derek had only been trying to help.

            He slowly uncovered the mark, fingers sliding over the sensitive skin, and he was not unaware of Stiles’ eyes tracing the movement. _She fell in love with him._

            He remembered the night a week into their mission, when Allison told him that she remembered being human. They weren’t supposed to. A demon born from the fall of an angel or the corruption of a human was not supposed to remember their previous life, but they did sometimes. She did. She remembered it without contempt, and perhaps that was rarer.

            He remembered, too, a month later when she admitted she was falling in love with Scott. She said it so simply, like it was just an immutable fact. There was no anger in the admission, nor happiness, nor regret. She believed she loved him and she had accepted it.

 _Demons cannot love_ , he had told her.

            The little smile she had given him held mischief and sadness in equal measure. _Do you know what happens to angels that love mortals too much?_ she had asked. _It is called_ falling _in love for a reason. Demons are not the ones who cannot love, Derek. Our problem is we love too much._

            Derek hadn’t had an immediate response to that, and Allison had finally looked away, back to Scott’s sleeping form. He could practically feel her thinking, could practically feel how she felt now that she had pointed it out to him, and he regretted it enough for both of them. She was not allowed to touch Scott, ever. It would not leave a scar the way it would if she touched Derek, but it was still against their laws to interfere physically with humans. She would have to stay beside him, forever in love and forever unable to even offer a hand in comfort.

 _If angels are willing to fall to be in love with mortals_ , Derek had said a while later, just before the first rays of sun had broken the horizon, _then maybe love is our problem, too._

            A month after that, Derek had grabbed her wrist to keep her from kissing Scott, and everything had come crashing down around them.

 _If she loved him_ , Stiles asked, jerking him back to the present _, why are you the one with the scar?_

            Derek blinked away the past, and looked down at his hands, at the ugly scar he’d given himself. _She would have kissed him, and I kept them apart._

            Stiles regarded him silently for a moment, and then looked away, rubbing a hand over his close-cropped hair. _What about free will?_ he asked.

 _Demons do not have free will_ , Derek said.

            It was not entirely true. Demons had will, in a way, but even they could not behave as freely as humans. A demon could exercise their will over a less powerful demon, or over a weak angel, and vice versa. Humans might fear or respect angels and demons, but they could not truly be controlled. That was why they were all assigned advisers in the first place, to help guide them in their choices.

 _You could argue that I got no training for this job_ , Stiles said slowly, _so maybe I do not know the truth, but it seems to me like you interfered with his free will, too. He obviously wants her here._

            Derek looked up, over at Scott’s sleeping form outlined in the light of the full moon. He had never considered it like that. He had reached for Allison, knowing that if she touched Scott, she would lose him. She would have suffered a worse punishment than just being reassigned. He had only wanted to protect her, and he had known it would hurt Scott to lose her, but he had never considered it an interference with Scott’s free will.

 _We are not allowed to touch our humans,_ Derek said, grasping at the only excuse he had.

 _We are not allowed to touch each other, either_ , Stiles said, nodding to indicate Derek’s scar again. _I uderstand that you wanted to stop her, but it sounds like you took away his choice, too._

            The scar had hurt, when he received it. The guilt of knowing his actions had caused a metaphysical disruption between the realms lodged in his chest and refused to be moved. Having his wings clipped and his form bound had been agony. Realizing he had failed his charge so severely beat out all of it.

 _I do not think he blames you_ , Stiles said, after a few more minutes. _No one is at fault when a creature acts in accordance with its nature. At least, that is how it should be._

            Derek glanced over at Stiles, heart in his throat as he began to understand how some angels might consider love worth falling for.

 

* * *

 

            Golden sun poured in through the window, and Derek let his eyes close, enjoying the play of light on both of his forms. The radiation was dangerous to humans if they were exposed too long, but it felt good to him. The warmth of it reminded him a little bit of home, of the endless plane of light and heat and peace. Before this assignment, he had ranged freely over the earth, and he had spent more than a few cycles laid out in a field, his wings corporeal and spread out over the ground to sun himself.

            Stiles, by contrast, had laid down somewhat haphazardly on the floor and was doing his best impression of a sleeping human. Derek knew that demons didn’t need to sleep, either, but that unlike angels, they _could_. They could sleep and access the liminal plane in order to dream. Humans had no ability to travel between the different planes of existence on purpose, but they were curious creatures and their minds had long ago found a way to the liminal plane, even if their bodies could not follow.

            Derek envied them both. He had always wondered what dreaming was like, and no two accounts were ever the same, no matter how many people he asked. He considered asking Stiles, when he was upright again, what he dreamed about. It seemed like a good question. A _safe_ question.

            One that wouldn’t lead to Stiles saying anything to further how Derek had already begun to feel about him. It had been unfathomable when Allison said she was falling in love with Scott after such a short time. Derek now suspected she had admitted it much later than she had realized it, herself.

            Stiles was, Derek thought, exactly what a demon was supposed to be- contrary, snarky, proud, and wily. But he had also reasoned Derek had interfered with Scott’s free will and that could get Derek into a great amount of trouble if he told anyone. However, he had not appeared to even consider using it as leverage. As much as they had argued yesterday, he seemed to genuinely like Derek, the same way Allison had.

            If he were honest, Derek had not met a lot of demons to compare them to. Derek had not met _any_ demons to compare them to. He had only the stories of his peers and predecessors to go by, and everything he had ever heard had prepared him for exactly the sort of demon he didn’t get. They were supposed to be evil and sinful and contriving. Oily and mean.

            Allison hadn’t been those things, except maybe a little sinful at times. Derek had liked her, enough to lay a hand on her to try to save her from herself. Which, he had come to realize, was a completely different feeling than liking someone enough to lay a hand on them to damn himself.

            But Stiles looked so much like peace that Derek couldn’t help but want to touch. Sunlight had poured into the room, spilling over every line of his body and giving his head a halo of light in the fuzz of his hair. If Derek set aside the aspects of their duties, the things which caused Stiles to bicker and twist and oppose him at every turn, he could admit how very fascinating Stiles really was. He could admit how much he wanted to press every button Stiles had, just to see what he would say.

            And maybe, just a little, to see what he would _do_.

            Derek startled hard when Scott’s alarm interrupted that particular train of thought. On the floor, Stiles became a frantic whirlwind of flailing as he attempted to get upright, shattering any thoughts of grace Derek might have had regarding him. Scott flailed as well, tossing covers and getting halfway out of bed before grabbing at his phone to stop it from making the awful noise.

            When he put it to his ear and said “Hello?” Derek realized why Scott had seemed so surprised as well. It was a phone call, not an alarm. “Isaac, slow down, I just woke up. Where?”

            Derek politely kept his hearing toned down enough that he heard Isaac make a response, but could not hear what it actually was. Scott rubbed a hand over his face and twisted to see his alarm clock. Stiles had draped his arms over the end of the bed, still kneeling on the floor, to watch, and Derek guessed Stiles wasn’t polite enough not to eavesdrop.

            “Uh, yeah,” Scott said blearily. “Yeah I can make a 10:30 showing but you’ll have to grab the tickets. … Okay, I’ll pay you back when I get there. Okay. See you there.”

            “Movie?” Stiles asked, perking up.

            Scott ran a hand through his hair a couple of times and then stopped, apparently abandoning it as a lost cause. “It’s entertainment. Humans go to a big dark room and watch a story get told on a big viewing screen.”

            “Is that good or bad?” Stiles asked, clambering to his feet.

            “I mean, I guess it depends on the movie,” Scott said, getting up as well. They had enough time for him to shower before leaving, if he wanted, and Derek guessed he would. Scott was by no means meticulous about being clean, but he was a far cry from being a slob, either. “Usually it’s pretty good.”

            “Are you going to make the bed?” Stiles asked when Scott had managed to clamber to his feet.

            Scott turned, already reaching to pull the covers into place, and then he stopped. With a frown, he said: “No. You’re right, I’m just going to come back and mess it up tonight.”

            “You should make it anyway,” Derek told him. Making the bed was not really a question of morality, but heeding his mother was.

            “It’s fine,” Scott snapped, and Derek dipped his head to show he heard and wouldn’t push again.

            The trip to the movie theater was uneventful. Even though he had not made his bed, his mother let him borrow her car, and they arrived in what appeared to be plenty of time. Isaac was there, as were some of Scott’s other friends that Derek recognized. Lydia was off to the side with Jackson and Erica, and Boyd was leaning against the brick wall of the theater looking at his phone. Isaac waved to Scott and Kira and Malia turned to see.

            “You made it!” Isaac said as Scott got closer. Derek could see his guardians on his shoulders, one a fennec fox the size of a sparrow and one a tiny rat.

            A human’s covered shoulders were, by the rules of the job, the only place permissible for a guardian to perch. They had to maintain a much smaller form in order to perch, and perching was usually only done in situations where space was full of other humans. Derek’s forced human form here at the crowded theater would make his punishment embarrassingly clear, as though the scar was not enough.

            “You’re late,” Kira pointed out. Her guardian foxes bickered at her feet, though Derek could not hear about what. He had spoken to them on several occasions and knew that they both loved their assignment and hated each other.

            “Yeah,” Scott said, scratching at the back of his neck and not quite looking at Isaac. “I had some issues. They sent Allison away.”

            That caught _everyone’s_ attention, human and guardian alike. “They what?” Kira asked, looking gobsmacked. “Why?”

            Scott shook his head. “Some stuff went down with her and my angel. I don’t really want to talk about it, can we just go see the movie?”

            The other humans looked distinctly uncomfortable, but they milled together into a group and headed into the theater. Isaac fell back, just enough to walk beside Scott, and Scott slowed enough that they both lagged behind the others. Isaac’s guardians both shifted and took flight the second before he bumped Scott’s shoulder, friendly and comforting.

            “Sorry about Allison,” he said softly, so the other humans wouldn’t hear.

            Scott shrugged. “It’s my own fault,” he said, a despondent tone creeping back into his voice. “I tried to kiss her.”

            “She tried to kiss you,” Derek pointed out. He did not usually interrupt human conversations, but this seemed like an important distinction.

            Scott snorted and shot him a look that Isaac ignored. “Anyway, I guess we’re not supposed to do that.”

            “She did a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to do,” Isaac said. “She never faceted, she just stayed in mirror form all the time, right?”

            “Yeah,” Scott said. “Maybe that was part of the problem.”

            Scott gave a forced smile to Isaac, and then they both hurried to catch up to the group. Derek gestured for Stiles to lead, and Stiles slipped in front of him. The theater was still lit overhead, previews of other movies they couldn’t go to yet flickering on the screen. The humans shuffled around, whispering as they decided where to sit, and Derek moved off to the side rather than sit in seats where another human might accidentally sit in his essence. Humans could only see their own guardians, after all.

 _What is mirror form?_ Stiles asked as the group took their seats, without bothering to look at Derek. His eyes were all over the very average theater like it was some kind of wonder.

 _It is what the humans call it when we take their form, instead of our true form, or a facet of our true form,_ Derek explained. _My facet form is usually a wolf or a crow._

 _Oh,_ Stiles said. Derek realized he hadn’t seen Stiles change his form, yet. _Why are you not?_

 _I cannot,_ Derek admitted. _Raguel bound my ability to reflect my true form in this plane. You can shift, though, if you want._

            Stiles looked at him then, and gave a one-shouldered shrug. _You did not change. I will match you._

 _You do not have to,_ Derek assured him. It was his punishment, not Stiles’.

            Stiles twitched uncomfortably, but he met Derek’s eyes. _Is it shameful? To be unable to shift?_

 _Yes_ , Derek told him simply.

 _Then I will stay like this_ , he said, turning away as the lights dimmed and winked out, drenching them in darkness. _You will seem less out of place._

            Derek continued watching Stiles for another few moments, trying to understand his motivation. Demons had no reason to be kind, much less to angels. Granted, many guardians formed a bond over their years of service to their humans, something akin to friendship, but kindness even then was unusual. The might be polite, civil even, but rarely kind. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive. There had to be something they wanted.

            But no matter how Derek framed it in his mind, he could find no reason for Stiles to keep a human form for his sake. He could find no reason for Stiles to maintain human form at all; it was easier to allow their forms to shift, to reflect various facets of themselves the way their true forms shifted on their respective planes.

            Stiles had no reason to fight the shift, especially not for Derek.

            Which made Derek wonder what, exactly, Stiles was up to now.

 

* * *

 

            The first day of school together was not what Derek expected. He and Allison had always taken much smaller forms during school, small enough to lie at Scott’s feet or perch on the edge of his desk or, occasionally, on his shoulders like normal guardians. They didn’t have a lot to say at school; by week two, Scott had established that he didn’t want their advice on school work unless they were going to give him the answers to tests, which they could not technically _do_.

            Stiles, however, picked an empty seat in the front of the classroom and asked as many questions as came into his head. Scott answered a few of them, until the teacher, Mr. Harrison, told him in no uncertain terms that he could pay attention to him or to his guardians, and only one of them would result in not getting detained after school. After that, Stiles kept his mouth shut and Scott did his best to focus on the lesson, leaving Derek nothing to do.

            The other guardians, thankfully, paid them almost no mind. The few that did stare at them stared mostly at Stiles, as the new person. Derek did catch a few uncertain glances flicked his way, but none of them said anything about his pinned form, and he didn’t offer any kind of explanation. Isaac’s guardians had heard what happened, and Derek had no doubt it would not take long for the news to travel. It never did, in high school.

            Lunchtime was a considerably different sort of mess. Almost as soon as they hit the cafeteria, Scott’s human friends flocked to him and immediately started asking questions about Allison. Scott explained several times before Isaac stepped in and told everyone to lay off and the conversation had reluctantly veered off into safer territory.

            Derek couldn’t blame them. Beacon Hills was not exactly a hotspot of dramatic activity, and guardians were not generally removed from duty unless something really bad happened. However, the things _humans_ considered ‘really bad’ and the things _guardians_ considered ‘really bad’ differed vastly, a concept which they often had a difficult time grasping.

 _They are his friends, and yet they hurt him,_ Stiles said, once the conversation had settled and everyone had begun to eat.

            Derek’s true form brightened in glow, fond beyond words for this aspect of humanity. _They are human_ , he explained. _It is in their nature to have more curiosity than sense._

            For just a second, Derek thought he caught a glimpse of Stiles’ true form brightening the way an angel’s did when they were pleased, but he dismissed it. Demons did not hue their true forms to speak, they leaned far more toward the same verbal communication humans did, and for much the same deceptive reasons.

 _You remind me of them_ , Derek said, almost without meaning to. Stiles looked over, clearly as surprised as Derek was at the strange words. _You ask a lot of questions_.

            Stiles shrugged, staring at him carefully. _There is a lot I do not know._

            let it drop, because it seemed to make Stiles uncomfortable, and Derek still felt like he somehow owed Stiles for his consideration in maintaining human form as long as Derek could not shift. Oddly enough, Stiles stayed quieter the rest of the day, sitting on the floor with Derek, one of them to either side of the classroom door. Derek wanted believe that the quiet was nice, but lying was not in his nature and by the time the final bell rang, he missed Stiles’ chatter.

            Fortunately, Stiles had not lost his voice, a fact he seemed intent on proving shortly after having the game of lacrosse explained to him while Scott and the rest of the school team did their warm up stretching exercises. As soon as Stiles had a grasp on what was happening, he began shouting instructions to Scott on the field, even though it was just practice and literally no one else was yelling. The guardians both on and off the field kept getting distracted by the noise, which was turning things into a bit of a mess right up until a demon on the sidelines yowled an order directly in counter to Stiles’ order and caused the two boys to crash into one another.

            Every single angel and demon in the area froze, eyes wide and attentions focused acutely on the fallen boys and then the interfering guardians. Stiles looked back over his shoulder at Derek, who could barely breathe, couldn’t look back at him. They were not supposed to interfere with free will, but did this count? The other boy had followed a direct order from his demon.

            “Help him up,” said the angel nearest to the two fallen boys. Greenberg, the one who had crashed into Scott, wobbled to his feet and held out a hand to Scott, who took it to pull himself upright.

            “Sorry about that, Scott,” Greenberg told him. “Des said you were going right, and I didn’t think to look.”

            “It’s okay,” Scott said, adjusting his jersey. “I wasn’t… but Stiles told me to, so… she must have heard him.”

            The humans all stood still, glancing among themselves before one of the other players said: “Are they, like… allowed to do that?”

            They all looked around again, and Scott looked over at Derek and Stiles, but Derek had no idea. He knew that angels and demons could not _touch_ each other, and that they were not supposed to interfere with the free will of their _humans_ , but there were not rules against talking to other guardians. He had never heard of anyone getting in trouble for it, had done it often enough himself, and both Des and Stiles were still here rather than being punished.

            “I don’t know,” Derek called loudly, which startled all of the guardians that could hear him. “It may not be _disallowed_ , exactly.”

            Stiles grinned and looked over to Scott, and Derek knew it had been exactly the wrong thing to say. He had only been around Stiles for a couple of days, but he knew that look. “So we could-”

            “No,” Derek interrupted. “No, we cannot.”

            Stiles grinned even wider, eyes bright, but he didn’t say anything else and after another moment of tension, the kids began to move and the guardians receded from the field to let them play alone. Stiles sat down in the grass next to Derek’s feet, so close and yet not touching. Derek joined him shortly, wings mantled toward the afternoon sun, just out of phase. They stayed that way for a long time, only inches apart, only a hair’s breadth between them on their alternate planes of existence.

            Derek had to remind himself several times not to close the gap the way he would with an angel companion. Not to fold one wing down around Stiles to thank him for staying put and keeping quiet. It had never been this difficult with Allison. He had never wanted to reach to touch her.

 _Thank you for not causing trouble,_ Derek offered a while later, when he could no longer stand the strange tension between them. Practice had come to an end and the boys were off changing out of their gear, leaving the two of them alone on the field.

            Stiles glanced over and then away again quickly, giving a very human shrug. _It would have been fun_ , he said, _but it would have interfered with the humans. There is a difference between an accident and an intention._

            Derek shifted uncomfortably, folding his wings in tightly at the pointed sentiment. Stiles had previously all but accused Derek of interfering with Scott’s free will, but this felt like a peace offering. Like a sideways way for Stiles to say he did not blame Derek, did not think that Derek had done anything wrong. It felt a little bit like someone lifting a weight off of him, and Derek blew out a breath.

 _Come on_ , he said, avoiding all of it. He had not earned forgiveness, and even if he had, it was not Stiles’ to give in this situation. _Scott awaits._

            Sure enough, Scott was leaning against the door frame of the locker room, the first one out again. Derek and Allison had only accompanied him in a couple of times, usually waiting outside instead because he was so quick to change. Stiles had not questioned leaving Scott alone, likely because the locker room had been packed before practice, and he had not seemed keen on repeating the experience afterward.

            They walked back to Scott’s house in silence, all three of them lost in thought.

 

* * *

 

            The following day, Derek was relieved to find that things were getting back to normal. Scott got up after only two snoozes on his alarm and made his bed messily but without a fuss and took the lunch he’d packed himself the night before. He scribbled his homework before first period, which could have been done better but Derek only mildly argued the case; at least it was done. At least when Stiles suggested just leaving it since the class it was for was about to begin, Scott had said he should at least try.

            School itself passed without incident, as did lacrosse practice, and Derek found himself relaxing at the new routine. Stiles got along well with Scott, maybe even better than Allison had, likely because he had no reason to hold back any part of himself. Allison had tried her best to play by the rules; Stiles seemed to have no idea what the rules even were, but he learned fast.

            Fast enough that even though it had only been a few days, it all felt familiar. Easy. Good. Derek, more often than not, found himself just watching Stiles. The way he moved, the way he talked to Scott, the thoughtful look he got when he fell silent for a second after asking a question and getting an answer. Derek would answer a hundred thousand questions just to keep seeing that look.

            He tried to tell himself he didn’t understand how Allison had felt, how she could have been willing to give this up in exchange for a touch, a kiss, but every time Stiles caught Derek watching him, every time he lit up with a smile, Derek knew it would be a lie. He understood.

            At least he would only have to sit across from Stiles for the rest of Scott’s life, and then he could be removed from duty, or assigned to another human without him. At least they would only be around one another for a mortal lifetime.

            Unfortunately, it would only be a lifetime.

            He already knew that would never be enough.

            The knowledge sat thick in his chest as he followed Scott home from practice, Stiles silent by his side in an unusual fashion. Derek could feel Stiles’ eyes on him, but Stiles didn’t ask any questions and Scott was busy on his phone. Melissa’s car was in the driveway when they arrived, and Derek remembered that Wednesdays were her day off, so she was able to stay up with Scott Tuesday nights to watch a movie.

            Scott hesitated just over the threshold as his mother called to him. “Oh yeah,” he said quietly, turning to glance at Stiles. “Tuesdays are movie night. I’m just hanging out with my mom. You guys don’t have to stick around unless you want to watch the movie.”

            “We have to go, if you’re going to a theater?” Stiles said, confused somewhere between a question and a statement.

            “Oh, no,” Scott said quickly, smiling and gesturing into the house. “We watch one at home. I don’t get to spend a lot of time with her, so this is just… you know. I haven’t really talked to her about Allison yet. I kind of want to… alone.”

            Derek looked up in time to see Melissa round the corner and spot Scott. Noah and Peter, her guardians, were nowhere in sight. That was not particularly unusual. Melissa’s scale was very firmly on Noah’s side, and they had explained to Derek once that they’d had very little to do with it along the way. Melissa McCall generally did what Melissa McCall was going to do, regardless of what any angel or demon might have to say about it. As such, her guardians spent most of their time hanging out nearby, sometimes as far away as just outside the building. Tonight, however, they were in the kitchen, where they would probably stay until Melissa went to bed.

            “That’s fine,” Derek told him, gesturing to Stiles to follow him. Stiles looked uncertainly between them, maybe torn between watching the movie and respecting Scott’s wishes, but eventually he moved toward Derek. “Enjoy the movie.”

            “Thanks,” Scott said. Derek saw Scott’s mom wrapping him up in a hug before he lost sight of them.

            Derek left the door to the room open when he went in, and Stiles didn’t close it or comment. Instead, he perched on the end of the bed and watched Derek settle on the windowsill. It was as far away as he could get from Stiles at the moment. Maybe once Scott was asleep, Derek would leave for a bit, take a walk. Normally he would just take a flight, visit the golden plane and revel in the light, but with his wings clipped he was stuck here for a few more days.

            “It’s nice,” Stiles said quietly, and when Derek looked over, he nodded toward the door. “Family time. I didn’t… really know my family.”

            It was on the tip of Derek’s tongue to tell him demons don’t _have_ families, but it sounded hollow before he even said it. Maybe they did. Derek felt like so much of what he had been told about demons was wrong. Maybe this was why angels fell; the truth was a heavy thing to hold.

            “I knew mine,” Derek told him instead, speaking aloud because that was the way he had been addressed. “We were not… close. Not the way humans are. They place so much significance on their lineage.”

            Stiles very carefully did not quite look at Derek. “Where someone came from seems pretty important,” he suggested. “You don’t care?”

            Derek had considered the question so many times before that he didn’t need to now. “No,” he said. “An angel that falls or a human that Descends is no different than a demon who began that way. A human who Ascends is no different than an angel who was born to the golden plane. If that is true, lineage needs no meaning. It only serves to separate.”

            “Sure,” Stiles snorted, a little harshly. “Angels aren’t into separating people that want to be together.”

            That burned, but Derek did not regret separating Allison and Scott, only that it had been necessary. “I did what I had to do.”

            Stiles glanced over, brows knit in confusion, and then his expression cleared. “I didn’t mean you,” he said, flopping back on the bed the way Scott did when he was exasperated. Stiles really was a peculiar specimen. “I just meant-” he waved his hand vaguely at the air, “angels in general. They don’t like stuff getting mixed up.”

            “We prefer order,” Derek agreed. It was their job, after all, to bring order to the chaos of the world, or maintain it where it existed.

            Stiles heaved a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said, like a surrender. He fell into the sort of silence that made Derek think maybe they hadn’t been talking about the same thing, exactly.

            “Why are you like this?” Derek asked, drawing Stiles’ sidelong attention. He had meant it without malice, but the words deflated Stiles in a way Derek did not recognize. _Why do you not speak your mind?_

            Turning back to face the ceiling, Stiles closed his eyes. It was a while before he answered and when he spoke, it was not what Derek expected him to say. _Why did you stop Allison_?

 _Because she attempted to kiss her charge,_ Derek said, confused. They had talked about this already. Stiles knew the situation, both from Derek’s explanation and from Scott’s. _It is not allowed._

 _But why did_ you _stop her_? Stiles stressed, opening his eyes and shifting onto his side to look at Derek, one arm folded and tucked under his head. _If she had done it… she would have still gotten in trouble. She would still have gone away._

            Derek was quiet for a moment, turning that over in his head. Stiles was not wrong, but he was not exactly right, either. _It is not the same_ , he said finally. _Scott would have blamed himself if he had let her. He blames me, now._ _It is better that way._

            Stiles hummed without inflection, but Derek got the distinct impression he did not feel the same. _Do you think they would agree_?

            Derek folded his wings tightly to himself, confused at the question. Of course they would agree. It had been the right thing to do, the only thing he could have done. Even Raguel had agreed on that. _I do not understand. Why would they not agree?_

            Stiles gave a little one-shouldered shrug, but didn’t look away when he answered. _Maybe they would have blamed themselves, but they would have had that kiss. Now they are separated anyway, and they have nothing._

 _They could have had everything else,_ Derek told him, gently, because it felt too much like he was trying to remind himself as well. _She was foolish, to try to touch him. They could have had a lifetime._

 _What good is a lifetime, if you can never have what you want most?_ Stiles asked without looking away, eyes warm and intent, and Derek wanted nothing more in the entire world than to crawl onto the bed and do something about it. He told himself he wanted to make Stiles stop, and wondered how many times an angel must lie to himself before it would count as a sin.

            Derek’s fingers tightened on the sill, as if that could keep him in place.

 _Do you not think it would be worth it?_ Stiles continued, gentle and almost sad. _To have one night to hold onto? Even one kiss, to know for sure how it felt? Even just one… single... touch?_

            Light, Derek wanted to find out. He remembered the way it felt to touch a demon, to feel the shock of darkness lance through his true form, the electric buzz of the metaphysical plane shifting around them in reaction. His wrist throbbed with the memory, burning hot and aching. He knew the consequences for a second offense. They would send him away, cast him down, strip him of his grace. He would lose everything… but Stiles was right: he would know.

 _Stiles_ , he pleaded, not sure what he intended to say after that, except that he had already crossed the room to the bed. He already had one knee on top of it by the time Stiles startled backward and practically flailed off the far edge of the bed away from him.

            “Sorry!” Stiles blurted, on his feet and staring at Derek with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Derek, I-”

            A deafening crack across the silver plane stopped whatever excuse or explanation Stiles had been about to give, and suddenly they were not alone in the room. Derek’s aether blade was in his hand before he even consciously registered the presence as the demon it was. Derek fell into a protective stance, ready for a fight to protect the humans in the house the way guardians were supposed to do.

            Stiles, however, said simply: “Oh, _shit_ ,” and disappeared.

            “Well,” said the demon, clearly surprised by both actions. “This was not the welcome I was hoping for.”

 _Identify yourself, demon_ , Derek demanded, pouring all of his considerable will into the words. He wanted desperately to go after Stiles, but protecting Scott came first. They were going to have a very stern talk about that when Stiles got back.

 _Jordan_ , the demon said, not sounding particularly impressed with Derek’s show. _I have come to replace Scott McCall’s demon guardian, Allison._

 _You lie_ , Derek accused, giving a slight tick of his head toward where Stiles had vanished. _He replaced her already._

            The demon’s bark of laughter, aloud and across the silver plane, scattered like cinder burns over Derek’s true form. “Him?” the demon exclaimed aloud, baring his teeth in a grin. “Everyone knows nephilim can’t serve.”

            Derek’s heart sank at the word, but he did not lower his weapon. “He is a demon.”

            “I knew angels were slow, but come on!” Jordan joked. When Derek gave no indication of changing, he sobered a little. “You didn’t… you didn’t know?”

            Although he wanted to protest that there was nothing _to_ know, he knew better. It made sense. It made more sense than a replacement being so readily available. It made more sense than a demon acting the way Stiles had acted this entire time, from showing compassion to maintaining a human form. If Stiles was nephilim, he had not acted strangely at all. He had acted in accordance with his nature. A creature with half an angel’s grace and half a human’s soul, the sort of monster that angels talked about in hushed voices, the sort of abomination that felt like an angel after the fall.

            And Derek had fallen for it. Derek had fallen for _him_.

            His sword dissolved back into his essence, and he slumped a little where he stood. _I must find him._

            “Buddy, I don’t want to be here either, but we’ve got a charge to tend to,” Jordan reminded him. “Someone else will catch him.”

 _You do not understand,_ Derek snapped harshly, opening his wings only to remember they were clipped. He could not fly after Stiles and there was no way he could find him on foot. He would be long gone by now, avoiding capture. _I have to find him before they do._

            Jordan stared at him for a long, confused moment, and then his expression cleared. “Oh,” he said, so softly, and Derek didn’t have to ask to know he had correctly guessed the situation. _If that is true, you absolutely cannot go after him. They will find him, eventually, and when they do, they will jail him back in the Origin. And when they find out you did not turn him over immediately, they will cast you down to the crimson plane with us. You’ll never see him again._

 _But it will have been worth it,_ Derek told him, understanding now the way Allison had felt, understanding the question Stiles had asked him only a few minutes ago. If they were to be separated forever anyway, Derek would rather see him just once more.

 _You would fall, just to see him again?_ Jordan asked. When Derek did not answer, Jordan nodded. _Okay. I may have an idea._

 

* * *

 

            The building didn’t look like much. It was only a couple stories high and the parking lot was desolate, had been for a long time. The mall had been closed down for years and no one had bothered with demolition. Though Jordan had taken a while to find Stiles after Scott fell asleep, Jordan had assured Derek that Stiles was there. Derek could feel the faintest prickle of presence from within, so he knew Jordan had not lied to him. Stiles was here.

            It was a terrible hiding place. He had not even fled the city limits. He had barely made it a couple of blocks. Derek told himself not to have hope, but he could not help himself. Stiles had not disappeared to the other side of the world, or escaped to another plane of existence. He was here, still, and Derek held on to the hope that that meant he wanted to stay.

            A hope that was only strengthened when he found Stiles waiting just inside the entrance of the mall. He looked wounded, though Derek could sense no damage to either of his forms. Derek approached, and Stiles tensed, ready to bolt again, and so Derek stopped a couple yards away.

            “You came,” Stiles said softly.

            “Of course I came,” Derek told him. “Why are you still here?”

            Stiles gave a little shrug, not quite looking at him, but not letting down his guard, either. “I wanted to see you.”

            “You know I have to turn you in,” Derek said, without inflection. He saw the pained micro-expression Stiles gave only because he was watching for it. “Why did you pretend? You had to know you would be caught.”

            “No shit,” Stiles said angrily, but he deflated only a second later. “I guess I just wanted to see what it was like, to not be… me. To be free. I’ve been locked up in Eden my whole life, and when the planes shifted, I thought maybe I could just get out for a little while. Have an adventure. And then you and Scott walked up right after I got out, and I thought, well… I liked you. It was ridiculous. I shouldn’t have done it.”

            “Was it worth it?” Derek asked him, barely a breath, and Stiles’ attention snapped to him then, eyes wide. Derek spread his arms and wings, gesturing all around them.

            Stiles stared at Derek like Derek had personally driven a sword through his gut, but Derek did not move, did not waver, until Stiles finally swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know. I thought it would be, but maybe you were right. I didn’t think it would hurt this badly to leave.”

            “Would you stay?” Derek asked, raising his brows when Stiles looked up at him. “If you could?”

            “I can’t,” Stiles argued. “I’m not really a demon. They’re going to catch me and put me back into Eden. It’s only a matter of time.”

            Derek searched his warm, golden gaze, and then stepped forward. Stiles tensed, but he did not flee. “Would you stay, if you could?” he repeated.

            “Please don’t do this,” Stiles pleaded. “You know I can’t. I’ve stayed too long already, I just… wanted to see you again. But that’s just going to get you in trouble. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry, I just-”

            Derek closed the distance between them, stepping right into Stiles’ space without touching him. Stiles flinched a little when Derek raised his hand, but he didn’t move away, didn’t even break eye contact until Derek’s hand rested warm on the back of his neck. Derek bowed his head forward at the same time as Stiles, closing his eyes when their foreheads touched and relief flooded through him.

            Stiles was not a demon, and there were no rules against touching him. There was no pain, no scarring, no punishment. Only warmth and relief and comfort. He could not actually see or touch Stiles’ _true_ form, not like this, not here, but this was enough. This was worth it.

 _Would you stay,_ Derek asked again slowly, without moving a muscle, his wings mantled around them both protectively, _if you could?_

 _Yes_ , Stiles mumbled, pressing his forehead against Derek’s. Even in the silver plane, he sounded broken, hurt.

 _Alright_ , Derek told him, drawing back and reluctantly breaking contact. If he did not, he was not sure he would. _I can make that happen. Come home._

            Stiles gave no indication that he would, and Derek did not press him for a reaction. Scott would awaken soon, and Derek had to be there when that happened. He could wait no longer for an answer.

            When he left, he did not say goodbye, and he hoped that would not be a mistake.

 

* * *

 

 _How sure are you that he will show?_ Jordan asked from his perch on the top of Scott’s bookshelf. When Derek had returned, Scott had still been asleep and Jordan had been waiting for him in the form of a cardinal. That had been almost an hour ago, and Scott’s alarm was set for half an hour from now.

            The problem was, Derek was not sure at all that Stiles would show up. It was one thing to talk about staying somewhere dangerous, and another entirely to actually do it. He had asked Stiles to risk everything without even knowing the plan, without any real assurance that anything would turn out alright. That this was not some kind of trap.

            Before he could say anything, however, there was a crack across the silver plane and Stiles stood in the doorway. He glanced to the little red bird on the bookcase before meeting Derek’s eyes. _What is the plan?_

 _I do not know if it will work,_ Derek admitted, wishing he could say more, steal just one more touch. But the sacrifice he was about to ask Stiles to make had to be made of Stiles’ own accord, and one more touch would betray Derek. It would betray his longing, his fear of losing Stiles entirely, the way he craved one touch to turn to two, to three. He wanted to stay by Stiles’ side forever, despite that it meant giving up any chance at moments of physical intimacy, any chance of touching him ever again. They had to do this quickly, before his resolve crumbled. _And we do not have much time._

 _He wants to rip out your grace_ , Jordan said without leaving the bookshelf. _Well, he probably does not_ want _to, but he will if you let him._

 _Why would I let him do that?_ Stiles asked, turning to look at Jordan. _I would be human. I could not see him._

            Jordan hopped along the shelf and then spread his wings, fluttering over to the end of the bed, closer to Stiles. _But, you would be human. And that means you could make a deal with me._

            Stiles turned wide eyes to Derek, and Derek raised both brows in question. It would work. If Stiles were to become human, he could trade his soul in a deal with a demon. Even a guardian could make that sort of deal, though usually only with their assigned human. However, they were banking on the rules being different for Stiles, since he was not wholly human and not wholly angel.

 _What deal?_ Stiles asked. It was the only question that mattered.

            Jordan bounced once and tipped his head at Derek, who took the hint. _A trade_ , he offered. _Your soul for Jordan’s position as Scott’s demon. You can start the contract as a nephilim, it can be sealed when you become human, and as it completes you would become a demon._

 _That has to break some rules,_ Stiles said, not breaking eye contact.

            Jordan fluttered up to the bed post, wings flashing bright red. _It does not. A pact made with a demon in free will overrules regulations. Any human willing to trade their soul has the free will to do so, and the contract’s agreement must be honored. We are not allowed to inform humans of the possibility unless they ask directly. But you are not exactly human, are you?_

 _No,_ Stiles said, _I am not. Not yet._

            Hope flared in Derek. _It will hurt. It will hurt beyond imagining._

 _But not forever_ , Stiles said. _It would be worth it._ He nodded, and turned to hold his hand out to Jordan, who took the invitation to fly to him. _I will do it. On one more condition._

 

* * *

 

            “Shh,” Stiles hushed, flapping his hand and hopping lightly onto the end of the bed, form shifting into that of little red fox as he went.

            Derek rolled his eyes, but he was secretly every bit as excited about this particular morning as Stiles was. It had taken Jordan a while to fulfill the second part of his contract with Stiles, but around midnight he had turned up with a delivery to make. Stiles had explained the entire plan, and now they were here, waiting for Scott to wake up to their surprise.

            Which should be happening in 3… 2… 1…

            Scott’s alarm blared and he startled awake a little, flopping one hand out to catch his phone and shut it off. He groaned and tossed his arm over his eyes to shut out the light pouring in from the window.

            “Good morning, Scott.”

            Scott’s entire body jerked as he bolted upright, eyes wide and bleary with sleep still. “Allison?!” he practically shouted. “What are you- how did you- what’s going-”

            Crawling quickly up his body, Allison interrupted his spiral of questions by capturing his lips in a kiss. At the foot of the bed, Stiles gave a foxy squeal of delight at the success of his plan. Derek could not help but feel pleased, happy even, that he had finally corrected his original mistake. It didn’t seem like much of a mistake anymore.

            “How…?” Scott asked breathlessly when Allison finally let him up for air.

            “Stiles gave me his grace,” Allison told him, which could not have made much sense to Scott. They had refrained from telling him any of the mess they’d made, just in case the plan didn’t work. “So I could be human again!”

            “It’s a long story,” Derek added from his perch on the window sill. Light spilled over his back, soft and warm and hopeful. He looked down and caught Stiles’ golden gaze, and thought just maybe that home reminded him of moments like this, and not the other way around. “But, as it turns out, we are going to have a very long time to tell it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt was: "Angel and demon pairs are sent to each mortal to vie for their alignment. Stiles and Derek are assigned to the same mortal, Scott. Writer choice which is the angel and which is the devil. Angels and devils are not allowed to interfere with one another physically- no touching, or it leaves a mark/scar/burn/tattoo to announce they did wrong. The reader should be desperate for them to touch more than to kiss, because it is forbidden."


End file.
